The Metro
by Freakish Lemon
Summary: DracoRon. post-Hogwarts. Songfic. Slash. Draco remembers...


A/N: Man, I seem to be on a fic-writing- spree…but that's a good thing, right? All right then. Characters do not belong to me, they belong to J. K. Rowling. The song "The Metro" does not belong to me either. It belongs to Berlin. I am not making any money off of this and flames will be used to toast bagels. This SLASH. Be ye warned.

Before we begin this fic, I'd like to clarify some of the lyrics in context to this fic, because most people tend to take them literally. "Riding on the metro" basically represents, for me anyway, that some thing(s) are progressing quickly, you cannot stop it/them, but you are not sure you want to. The phrase "I was on the Paris train" represents love in this fic.

On with the fic….

The Metro

By Freakish Lemon

~I'm alone

Sitting with my empty glass

My four walls

Follow me through my past

I was on a Paris train

I emerged in London rain

And you were waiting there

Swimming through apologies~

Another swallow of brandy and its burning trail. I wait for the alcohol to settle in; for the memories to leave me for the night. Damn. The glass tilts back again. Wait. I force my eyes to focus on the glass. Empty. Again.

My hand reaches over to grasp the neck of the bottle, already more than half empty. Hang on. Bad idea.

My hand drops. What am I doing? Drinking myself to death, that's what I'm doing.

_Oh come on! One more drink isn't going to kill you!_

So Mother thought…

_But you are not an alcoholic._

Then why am I drinking? I had decided against excessive alcohol of all sorts. Why did I break my resolve?

_Because you want to forget._

Forget what?

Your mother's death, your father's imprisonment, the war, the near destruction of Hogwarts…

No. That's not it.

_What then?_

The glass sets down on the polished table. Thin fingers massage temples.

Him.

~I remember searching for the perfect words

I was hoping you might change your mind

I remember a soldier sleeping next to me

Riding on the metro~

Sixth year.

Sixth fucking year and the first outright battle of the war. I remember now the battle clearer than I had in the following months. I remember the look on your face when you saw the first student fall. I don't think you had ever seen anyone die before. I remember you walked over to the body, and I still marvel that you escape all curses that were sent in your general direction. But the memory haunts me.

Because you just stood still.

And I watched.

You didn't know what to do. The pain was there, I could see it, but it was as if your body did not know what to do with it. You looked up at the approaching Death Eaters and just stood there. 

That image will forever be burned upon my mind, an unwanted tattoo that no one can see. You standing there in those silly handed down robes, the cape streaming out behind you. Red hair covered blue eyes in swaying fringe, moving in a wind I didn't know was there. But your eyes… Your eyes were blank as they looked into death.

I think that blankness is what saved you.

I do not know whether the man was waiting for your fear, or faltered because he had expected fear or anger or _something_, but I could not let you die. Curses flew and your attacker fell, not dead, just unconscious. I think I could have killed him, but you had seen enough death for one day.

I still do not know how we managed to reach a guarded area. I didn't know where I was trying to go. I knew I had to get you away from that place. I had seen the face of the corpse, her features frozen forever in shock and fear.

Even to this day I am saddened at the thought of her death. It seems strange. I know she had never thought well of me, and, until that sixth year, I had always thought ill of her in return. I wish now that I had had time, two minutes would have sufficed, to apologize, perhaps even ask her forgiveness. I will never know if she has, until my own death.

Know this Hermione Granger, your friend was safe with me. They both were safe with me. And know that we will remember you always.

You can see now, that if her death bring tears to my eyes, then I would have to have gotten you out of there, lest your mind break.

I grabbed your hand and ran.

My memory blanks until later when Professor McGonagall opened a hidden passage in the hallway ahead. I now assume any pursuers we might have had were lost in the maze-like castle. At the time, I was only glad to have a safe place to rest.

Most of the other students were in that room, huddled in fear of the ongoing siege. Few faces turned towards us, and I remember your sister sighed with relief at the sight of us. I turned to the Professor, who stood watchful and attentive at the passage's entrance. I had asked as to Potter's whereabouts.

"He's with Professor Dumbledore. Someplace safe," she replied tersely. I knew she suspected me of false loyalty, but I nodded, knowing he would be the first to be secured. I looked at you then, hoping to see change in your eyes at the knowledge of your friend's safety…but there was none. The she asked,

"Have either of you seen Miss Granger? Or know where she is?"

Before I could answer, the sound of the sobs that had finally escaped your throat answered her question. As your knees buckled and I caught your shaking form, holding your body as you wept, I gave her an answer that left no room for doubt.

"She's dead."

I remember the look on her face at the sound of my voice. There was no sarcasm, no anger, no bitterness, only sorrow and weariness. Nothing she was ever used to hearing.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was weak. I only nodded. Your sobs echoed into my thin shoulders, dampening the fabric of my shirt. Your weight began to drag me down as weariness clawed into my bones. I quickly gathered you into my arms and carried you into the far corner.

We sat there for hours and I held you in my lap like the child you still were. I wish I could have said something, anything to stop those tears, but I know I could not have thought of the right thing to say. I would only have made it worse. After all, I was your enemy not hours before. I was the only one you had at the time; a substitute for the dead Muggle-born and the Boy Who Lived.

What bothered me then, was how much I liked it. How much I loved being needed.

So when the Golden Boy was finally allowed into our little grotto, I wouldn't let you go. You had fallen asleep amidst your tears, and your friend offered to take you off my hands. I never had any love for one Mr. Harry Potter, so I told him no, providing some lame excuse about how I also witnessed Granger's death when he had asked me why not. He settled with sitting next to us, and occasionally touching your shoulder.

It was a long night that night, but the siege ended in the pale dawn. But I had won your trust, and that was more of a victory than anything I could have asked for.

~You wore white

Smiling as you took my hand

So removed

We talked about spring in France

Minutes passed with shallow words

Years have passed and still the hurt

I can see you now

Smiling as you pulled away~

Seventh year.

Or rather, after graduation, but we still thought of ourselves as seventh year students. It had always seemed like graduation would never come, and then when it did, we did not know what to do with ourselves. By that time the war was over, and many of our classmates had been lost. Too many of them.

It was odd, knowing that we'd have to go back to normal lives. Most of us had fought in the war. We weren't children anymore. But adults never seem to see that, except perhaps the Hogwarts' staff.

Anyway, it was that summer. I'm sure you remember. There was a high death rate, whether by suicide or not, amongst the Death Eater families. Several of my relatives had already died. That summer was my mother's turn.

My mother was a docile and weak woman. That's probably why my father married her. He may not have loved her, but I did. She wasn't the best mother, not by a long shot, but she was my mother all the same, and her death came as a hard blow to me.

I didn't cry when she died. I could not bring myself to do so. She had been drowning in alcohol and her own pain, and my heart could only hope she had found some peace.

I didn't cry at her funeral. Very few did, but people always come to pay respect to the dead. It was not the time for tears either.

No, I did not cry until the day after the funeral. I don't even remember writing to you; not really. It must have said something about wanting to talk to you, or something, because I remember you being led into my parlor, completely soaked from the evenings rain.

We talked. I don't know what we talked about. Maybe your new job, your family…something. It was in that moment, though, when I knew I was alone.

You must have seen it in my face, for you took me in your arms and allowed me to cry into your already soaked shoulder. I don't know what else would have provoked you to do that. But you did it, and I cried, simultaneously glad to unburden myself of the tears and disgusted at myself for giving into them.

My sobs subsided after a while. You made a comment, something about two enemies who lent eachother the comfort that they needed. I looked up at you, and said that perhaps that didn't make us enemies at all.

Your hand reached up and traced along the trails on my face. The your lips kissed away the hurt. You held me in your arms that night, the final act to completely crumble the walls we had built between us. I knew I loved you then.

~I remember the letter wrinkled in my hand

"I'll love you always' filled my eyes

I remember a night we walked along the Seine

Riding on the metro~

~I remember a feeling coming over me

The soldier turned and looked away

I remember hating you for loving me

Riding on the metro~

I blame Potter, you know. He had never gotten used to the fact that I was not a Death Eater, that maybe I was not evil after all. He always wanted to believe that I was just waiting for my chance to rise and create my own dark following. He never approved of us, and threatened me almost daily after you told him about us. I was glad when he stopped talking to me.

I'll never understand why you are so loyal to him. Maybe that is another one of those things I have to experience for myself in order to understand.

I still have that letter. The one you sent just before you left.

In it you told me you loved me. You loved me, but you had to find him. The Ministry had received a missing persons report, and had recruited you to find him. They had recruited you to search all of the earth for their hero.

I know why they did. I know that Potter would not return to England, to the wizarding world without your persuasion. I know that.

But it doesn't stop the pain.

I followed the news avidly for the following weeks, knowing any sign of Harry Potter would be front-page news. All I ever found was "Potter Still Missing" and "Ministry Officials On the Search"…And I received no letters from you.

That was three years ago…

~I'm alone

Sitting with my broken glass

My four walls

Follow me through my past

I was on a Paris train

I emerged in London rain

And you were waiting there 

Swimming through apologies –sorry~

I can feel the tears again. I can feel my torn hopes gather at the bottom of my heart. A pain, years old already, spreads throughout my form. I will never be able to forget that day, or walk away from you as you walked from me.

An incredible anger seizes me. My hand again reaches for the empty brandy glass. I eye it, willing my pain to leave me and fill the glass instead, and hurled it at the far wall. I delight in the tinkling sound of broken glass. I sigh, knowing I will have to clean it up later. I had told the house elves not to bother me for the next few days.

I brought the bottle straight to my lips.

"Getting yourself drunk is not going to help anything, Draco Malfoy."

I frown. That can't be you, can it? You left. For all I know, you aren't coming back. I have a feeling I'm imagining those footsteps.

My eyes try to focus as the bottle is taken from my grasp.

"Ron?"

I am blessed with the short sweet sound of your laughter before I feel you lips on mine. This has to be real. The light touch of your fingers brush wisps of hair from my face. My own brush across your cheek. You smile into my lips. Deeper. Tongues wash away all the hurt and loneliness; cleanse me of what words could not.

Hold me in your arms tonight and know that I love you.

~I remember searching for the perfect words

I was hoping you might change your mind

I remember a soldier sleeping next to me

Riding on the metro~

~Fin~

A/N: If you do not have this song on tape or record or CD, I suggest you download it. Really. If a song can make me write a fic in less than 2 days, then it's practically guaranteed it's worth taking a listen…. cause I'm a slow writer…yeah…. So let me hear your opinions on the fic!! Good? Bad? Let me know! Please review. *holds out collection tin*


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